


Felt Nothing Like The Weight Of

by vexedcer



Category: Glee
Genre: Depression, Episode: s03e14 On My Way, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Minor canon divergence, Non-Graphic Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, cos im trash for like even the most minor of blam friendship moments, like its not fluffy but its not angst rlly?, surprisingly non-angsty??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 07:52:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6462028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexedcer/pseuds/vexedcer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“ - And look at all the things I would have missed out on,” Mr. Schuester says, his expression changing from one of pain to hope. “I would have never met you guys, or Emma.” He sighs. “I would have missed out on everything.”</p><p>There’s a pause, and it seems like the group all starts to breath in again, like they were stuck in a vacuum while Mr. Schue bared his soul. The silence deafens him so much that he feels compelled to break it.</p><p>“I thought about it,” he blurts out.</p><p>Altered scene from "On My Way."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Felt Nothing Like The Weight Of

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [for those days we felt like a mistake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5413010) by [ShanleenKinnJaskey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShanleenKinnJaskey/pseuds/ShanleenKinnJaskey). 



> so. i never thought i'd never be writing, let alone publishing a glee fanfic, but here i am.
> 
> This story contains discussion of both canon and non-canon suicide (involving jumping off a building, and overdose), and a canon instance of non-graphic violence.
> 
> I actually started this at 6:30am this morning when I woke up a long time before my alarm. I couldn't stop thinking about this idea after rewatching "On My Way" a couple days before. It's also not beta'd bc it's literally been a day and it's too short of notice for anyone who'd do it for me lol.
> 
> It was also somewhat inspired by "for those days we felt like a mistake" by ShanleenKinnJaskey. I would totally recommend you reading that too.

Part of Blaine can’t believe what he’s hearing -  what Mr. Schue’s admitting to. How he’s talking about that edge being the end of it all, the way his voice cracks. Mr. Schue, who always seems so in control in front of them, regardless of where his emotions fall on the spectrum, baring all vulnerability to a motley group of teenagers.

But another part of him - he can believe it. Mr. Schue sounds _honest_ \- he’s not making it up to cajole his kids into self-preservation. That kind of control can only be learned from hiding what’s really there, what he really feels on the inside.

He sounds the way Blaine sounded, to his therapist when he talked about regret and never wanting to stand on the precipice of that decision _ever_ again.

“ - And look at all the things I would have missed out on,” Mr. Schuester says, his expression changing from one of pain to hope. “I would have never met you guys, or Emma.” He sighs. “I would have missed out on everything.”

There’s a pause, and it seems like the group all starts to breath in again, like they were stuck in a vacuum while Mr. Schue bared his soul. The silence deafens him so much that he feels compelled to break it.

“I thought about it,” he blurts out. Blaine keeps staring at the floor, even though the movement of everyone’s heads as they turn to look at him is in his peripherals. Mr. Schue reaches to put a hand on his shoulder, solid and grounding, and he’s really thankful for it. It falls away when he begins to talk.

“When I came out at my old school, before I went to Dalton, almost everyone turned against me. I still had some friends and I wasn’t really being bullied, but everyone looked at me like I was scum.” He takes a deeps breath and keeps looking at the floor. It’s especially shiny today; they must have waxed it recently.

“And the Sadie Hawkins dance was coming up, so I asked my friend Tyler to go with me. He was the only other out student at the time. Tyler’s dad was giving me a ride home so we went out into the parking lot to wait -”

“Blaine -” Kurt interrupts him quietly. His voice wobbles in the slightest, and Blaine’s heart breaks in the slightest in return.

“No, it’s okay, Kurt,” he says softly. Everyone is waiting for him to continue with bated breath. Blaine clears his throat and keeps going. He’s started; he’s not going to just stop.

“And then some seniors show up with a baseball bat. I had a concussion, four broken ribs, and a fractured collar bone. Tyler was luckier; he only got a broken nose and some bruises.”

He finally gathers the courage to look up. Their expressions range from nauseous (Rachel and Kurt), to horrified (Sam, Mercedes, Rory), to pissed as all hell (Puck and Finn), to scarily blank (Santana). Kurt and Mercedes are both crying, and Santana just stares at a point across the room, her hands balled into tight fists in her lap.

Blaine wipes a tear away from his cheek, sniffles loudly into the silence. “I had all these painkillers, in the bathroom for my ribs and stuff, and - I poured them all out into my hand. But then I looked at myself in the mirror, and thought about my mom finding me there so still and cold, and Tyler feeling guilty for not reaching out ‘cos he was dealing with his own stuff too, and how those seniors would win if I killed myself.” His voice breaks over the word _“kill”_. It’s the first time he’s ever said those words together out loud.

“So I put them back into the jar, and went downstairs and told my mom to make me an appointment with my doctor to get help.”

Mr. Schue looks resigned in the face of this confession. The auditorium is so still and quiet, nobody moving. It’s weird, because the New Directions always seem to fill out the room just with their presence, never letting any space seem too big. But right now he feels very small, and very tired, and very old.

“I never went back to the school - I was a correspondent student for the rest of the year. I transferred to Dalton that September, and I cut all my hair off - it used to be really long and curly - and I joined the Warblers. And then the next year, I met Kurt and all you guys.” He glances around the group to see that most of his friends’ faces have softened.

“I wasn’t magically fixed, and I’m still not, I still have bad days, but all you guys and the Warblers made me feel welcome, like I belong.”

He looks at Kurt’s mournful expression, wet eyes and closed posture as he says it. He means it.

Blaine remembers the first time he told Kurt about all this; when he relayed a mixture of what he remembered and what he was told happened by other people, in the middle of Breadstix. After Prom, on the ride home, he told Kurt about how terrifying it felt to hold all those pills in his hand. How they felt so light, nothing like the weight of a knife or a gun, but how they could equally kill him in the end.

Kurt hugs him so hard that night, his ribs twinge in phantom pain; they’re long healed by now.

Mr. Schue reaches back over and squeezes his shoulder again. “Thank you for sharing, Blaine. That was very brave of you.” He nods jerkily. Blaine’s back looking at the floor. He quickly wipes his eyes again.

Mr. Schue talks for another little bit and Blaine half listens to him. When he stands up at the end of Glee, Kurt basically throws himself at Blaine, pulling him into a protective embrace, not even caring that they’re still in full view of everyone. He tucks his face into his boyfriend’s neck and just breaths deeply. In this moment, he loves Kurt so much.

After they separate, people loiter in a way they think is casual but actually isn’t, to give him hugs and tell him they love him. Brittany pecks him on the cheek.

Sam and him only share a look, from across the stage. It gets the message of _I’m glad you’re still alive_ , and _I’m here for you, pal_ , and _I care so much about you_ across very well. Blaine nods to him.

“Blaine, could I have a word?”

Kurt squeezes his hand tightly, before letting go and walking away with Rachel. That just leaves him and Mr. Schue alone on the stage.

Blaine crosses his arms, tries to make himself smaller. He’s not a particularly huge guy, so it’s not that hard.

“I’m really proud of you, Blaine. Sharing that was very brave of you.” Blaine just kind of shrugs at the praise. “I’m serious - that was no small thing.”

“And Blaine - we all care about you, so much. If you need to talk, we’d all listen.”

Blaine nods, biting his bottom lip. “Thanks, Mr. Schue.”

Then he swings his satchel over his shoulder and makes his way out to where Kurt will be waiting by the Navigator to drive them somewhere that isn’t McKinley.

**Author's Note:**

> thank youuuuuuuuuuuuu.


End file.
